


The time Sam met Gabriel

by Casangelofthefreakinglordnovak



Series: Sabriel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Art model Sam, M/M, art student Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:12:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casangelofthefreakinglordnovak/pseuds/Casangelofthefreakinglordnovak
Summary: Sam was early, worried about his first modelling job in a while.Until he meets an awkward golden eyed boy





	

Sam was early. Really early. Like 3 hours early. It had been his first job in a few months, and naturally he didn't want to show himself in a bad light on the first day. Sure being a model for art students wasn't an extremely difficult job, he mainly sat in a certain position for a few hours which did leave him with cramp but that was something a bubble bath would easily fix. 

He could kill for one of those right now. Sitting on one of the art college's hard stools, with nothing but the wall to lean against. He'd finished his second red eye of the day, the vender has informed him it was his funeral, as was tradition, and he now slightly regretted it as the caffeine was flowing through him, leg bouncing in an attempt to wear it down. 

The room was filled with easels, paint splattered along with the stools and the walls. It gave a sense of peace and comfort, knowing that the students take their work seriously enough to risk getting splattered in a rainbow of paint. It gave him a sense of calm, being surrounded by the things he loves. The sharp scent of paint, the soft bristles of the brushes, the quiet music the professor always plays in the background. 

It wasn't on at the moment. Professor Henrikson had informed the man that it would begin once the class had started. Which was now. Sam had disappeared into a side room to change, as the students filed in and took their places behind their easels. Sam could hear Henrikson drone on about how they were focusing on the body today, and that they had a model to work with. There had been a snort from the back of the class along with a comment that had the rest of the class laughing, Sam was sad to say he missed it. 

"Anyway. Let's begin. You're model will be out in a second. You have him today, and the rest of the week to work on your painting." Sam took his cue, holding the cloth sheet tight around his waist as he walks out into the room. "This is Sam Winchester. Mr Winchester, I believe you chose a pose for us?" Sam nods, "yes. If that's alright. Unless you have one in mind?" Henrikson shakes his head, gestures to the stool in the centre of the room before disappearing to his desk and fiddling with music. 

Sam nods at the students, situates himself on the stool; positions his leg up to press against his chest, sheet thrown across one hip to cover his crotch. An arm rests on his bent leg, turning his head to the right to gaze out the window. He used this position most, mainly because he was able to hold up his arm and head, which saved him from cramp. But also because in this position, his muscles in his chest stood out and allowed the light in the room to create shadows to highlight his bones and eyes perfectly.

So maybe he was an art enthusiast too. 

The room has gone silent, except for the classical music now filtering from a stereo on Henrikson's desk, as each student waited until the man had made himself comfortable, gauged how he looked and drew their image in their heads. Everything's okay for a second, before there's golden eyes - Sam loves the colour immensely, like it's just been panhandled and is sitting shimmering in the sun - and then the eyes are followed by an exclamation of "Jesus Christ!" The eyes disappear from sight a few seconds later when the man falls off his stool, knocking over his easel and the stool beside him. 

Startled Sam moves from his position, glances at the floundering man on the floor who's scrambling to pull himself to his feet, then looks around the rest of the room. The remainder of the students roll their eyes, return to sorting their paint and materials as though this is a usual occurrence. Sam moves his gaze to Henrikson who's sighs and shrugs. "Gabriel Novak." He mumbles, as thought that should explain everything. Sam nods and looks back at the man who's now as red a tomato and avoiding eye contact. Perhaps this job would be more enjoyable than he thought.


End file.
